Flash Fiction

She sat quietly at the small round table in the corner of the busy café, nibbling little bites from the edges of her brownie and taking sips from her mug of tea. Her pink tongue darted out and caught a crumb of chocolate from her lower lip.

He sat quietly across the room, books spread over the table. He read sometimes, but more often he wrote. The trash can nearby was filled with crumbled wads of discarded dreams written on yellow paper. He looked at her once more and picked up his pencil: “Dear Pretty Girl Sitting in the Corner”.